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Come for the lesbians, stay for the blog!
Sunday, October 31, 2004
Can't they just put Saturday Night Live out of its misery?
Why do I subject myself to this show? Every few weeks I come back, hoping it will be funny. But it's not. It just isn't.
So, as I watch this show, I wonder to myself: if I shot Lorne Michaels, in the face, would they cancel the show or would it get funnier?
Here's what would make the show better; I have compiled a list.
1. Good writers.
2. Good actors.
3. Cut off half an hour; we know that's all filler.
4. Nudity.
5. Hot meals, transmittable through the television screen.
6. No more people! Replace all actors with bunnies or robots or a reasonable amalgam of the two.
7. Shoot the writers on stage, because their suffering will bring me pleasure.
8. What the fuck were you thinking, hiring these people? They're not writers! I don't know if they're even people!
9. For fucks sake! They should force the writers to read their own scripts. In shame, the writers will commit seppuku, thus completely circumventing step 6.
10. Hire writers who know what the fuck they're doing.
11. Do whatever else it takes so I won't have to decide whether gay Frankenstein or a grotesquely overweight rapper is the funniest sketch in the show.
And what happened to Eminem? He's on tonight's show and I was all like, "Krunk yo, Eminem be my dawg." But this new shit he's doing is all like, shit. Eminem used to be ABOUT stuff! Poverty, his deficient mother, killing his wife, his own raging homophobia, and how his skills outrank ours by a matter of several decimal points. Now it's like, "I like girls, girls are cool, girlies make me split my pants."
I don't need this shit. I know you like girls. What about all that shit about how having a daughter made you all sensitive and shit? Or if you want to go the other way, you could at least pretend to be controversial. Start writing ambiguously homo-erotic songs and just watch your press coverage soar. Suddenly, all the people that accused you of being a bigoted homophobic jerk will support you for releasing your "inner queer." And all the people that used to take your crazy lyrics seriously, even going so far as to agree with you and cite you as an "expert" will suddenly be saying, "Oh no: faygot! Damn the liberal media!" You'll be a hot topic, and all the rage again! And because these are AMBIGUOUSLY gay songs, you can always deny them, or insist that they were written ironically. You can't lose! Hell, you can even go on to tell reporters that you in fact, HATE FAGS, but then "accidentally" have a few pictures taken of you being a little bit too pally with your sworn rival Moby, thus ensuring you time in the spotlight indefinitely. This cycle could continue for years, while entire new generations of avid fans or detractors buy your CDs, analyze them closely, and conduct lengthy flame wars on message boards.
I think I'm some kind of genius.
Long story short, cancel SNL and replace it with something funny.
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.
AIM: Jake Aimer (2) comments
So, as I watch this show, I wonder to myself: if I shot Lorne Michaels, in the face, would they cancel the show or would it get funnier?
Here's what would make the show better; I have compiled a list.
1. Good writers.
2. Good actors.
3. Cut off half an hour; we know that's all filler.
4. Nudity.
5. Hot meals, transmittable through the television screen.
6. No more people! Replace all actors with bunnies or robots or a reasonable amalgam of the two.
7. Shoot the writers on stage, because their suffering will bring me pleasure.
8. What the fuck were you thinking, hiring these people? They're not writers! I don't know if they're even people!
9. For fucks sake! They should force the writers to read their own scripts. In shame, the writers will commit seppuku, thus completely circumventing step 6.
10. Hire writers who know what the fuck they're doing.
11. Do whatever else it takes so I won't have to decide whether gay Frankenstein or a grotesquely overweight rapper is the funniest sketch in the show.
And what happened to Eminem? He's on tonight's show and I was all like, "Krunk yo, Eminem be my dawg." But this new shit he's doing is all like, shit. Eminem used to be ABOUT stuff! Poverty, his deficient mother, killing his wife, his own raging homophobia, and how his skills outrank ours by a matter of several decimal points. Now it's like, "I like girls, girls are cool, girlies make me split my pants."
I don't need this shit. I know you like girls. What about all that shit about how having a daughter made you all sensitive and shit? Or if you want to go the other way, you could at least pretend to be controversial. Start writing ambiguously homo-erotic songs and just watch your press coverage soar. Suddenly, all the people that accused you of being a bigoted homophobic jerk will support you for releasing your "inner queer." And all the people that used to take your crazy lyrics seriously, even going so far as to agree with you and cite you as an "expert" will suddenly be saying, "Oh no: faygot! Damn the liberal media!" You'll be a hot topic, and all the rage again! And because these are AMBIGUOUSLY gay songs, you can always deny them, or insist that they were written ironically. You can't lose! Hell, you can even go on to tell reporters that you in fact, HATE FAGS, but then "accidentally" have a few pictures taken of you being a little bit too pally with your sworn rival Moby, thus ensuring you time in the spotlight indefinitely. This cycle could continue for years, while entire new generations of avid fans or detractors buy your CDs, analyze them closely, and conduct lengthy flame wars on message boards.
I think I'm some kind of genius.
Long story short, cancel SNL and replace it with something funny.
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.
AIM: Jake Aimer (2) comments
Saturday, October 30, 2004
I got here as fast as I could!
When I heard of Folgers' new "Coffee Pods", I was astounded! "Awesome!" said I! I have absolutely no idea what they do or how they work; all I know is there aren't enough things in fucking pod form. God, if I invent a revolutionary new product, you can bet it's going to be somehow incorporate a fucking pod! Fuck yeah!
Nicky
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.
AIM: Jake Aimer (0) comments
Nicky
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.
AIM: Jake Aimer (0) comments
Hallowe'en?
Okay, still trying to get back into this "writing" thing. Don't worry if I churn out a little bit of crap for a while.
So, on Friday we had our little Halloween celebration at Laguardia. I mean, not that little. I think I go to the only New York public high school that actually gives students a half day for Halloween. There were some good costumes, some shitty costumes, and a pretty nice array of mediocre costumes.
I was a Crazy 88, as seen on television! Which is to see, seen on television commercials for the movie Kill Bill. It's an easy costume to do. Believe me.
So, one interesting thing about Halloween this year is that this year's sophomores, my class, had much fewer slutty costumes. Yeah. I don't think I saw anyone explicitly dressed as a hooker. Okay, a few. But they were all tastefully designed. So, my theory is that after Freshman year, the girls sort of got the "whore" thing out of their system after last year, you know? They pushed the limits of how far they could go without actually being arrested, and after realizing they had reached the maximum skin:fabric ratio, I mean, what's next? After they failed to get a sufficiently outraged response, these girls probably turned to the next best thing: creative costumes. Oh well, can't complain about a little variety, I suppose. Interestingly enough, some of the juniors seemed to be ready to jump back onto the whore bandwagon.
Okay, that's really all I've got to say about Halloween this year.
So what's with that Hillary Duff movie, "Raise Your Voice"? Don't you hate it when a singer who thinks she can act stars in a movie where all she has to do is sing? It's like putting Serena Williams in a movie called, "The Girl That Had to Play Tennis." I mean, we already know she can play tennis, we're not going to be impressed if she beats all the other characters and wins the big tournament. It's just a movie meant to showcase the person's talents. If I didn't want to hear the bitch sing in the first place, why the hell would I want to see a movie in which said bitch's singing is a major plot point?
Also, what's with parties in TV shows? You know what I'm talking about. They always have these scenes where the main characters are at a party, usually hosted by one of the friends or some jerk they don't know. That's all good and well, but what about the extras? There's always a few principle characters and upwards of 20 or 30 other people who are just sitting around, making out on the stairs, dancing in place, or greeting people. Who has this many random people at their party? Don't you invite people that you know? And everyone's got these big two-floor houses except you never see the upstairs, you just see people sitting on the stairs drinking beer out of red plastic cups. You never just see a party with eight or nine good friends, where they sit around on a couch and just... pass time. Or whatever! Okay, I admit I don't really know what I'm talking about; I don't go to a lot of parties. But it just seems... false. Okay, until the next time,
Nicky Young
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.
AIM: Jake Aimer (3) comments
So, on Friday we had our little Halloween celebration at Laguardia. I mean, not that little. I think I go to the only New York public high school that actually gives students a half day for Halloween. There were some good costumes, some shitty costumes, and a pretty nice array of mediocre costumes.
I was a Crazy 88, as seen on television! Which is to see, seen on television commercials for the movie Kill Bill. It's an easy costume to do. Believe me.
So, one interesting thing about Halloween this year is that this year's sophomores, my class, had much fewer slutty costumes. Yeah. I don't think I saw anyone explicitly dressed as a hooker. Okay, a few. But they were all tastefully designed. So, my theory is that after Freshman year, the girls sort of got the "whore" thing out of their system after last year, you know? They pushed the limits of how far they could go without actually being arrested, and after realizing they had reached the maximum skin:fabric ratio, I mean, what's next? After they failed to get a sufficiently outraged response, these girls probably turned to the next best thing: creative costumes. Oh well, can't complain about a little variety, I suppose. Interestingly enough, some of the juniors seemed to be ready to jump back onto the whore bandwagon.
Okay, that's really all I've got to say about Halloween this year.
So what's with that Hillary Duff movie, "Raise Your Voice"? Don't you hate it when a singer who thinks she can act stars in a movie where all she has to do is sing? It's like putting Serena Williams in a movie called, "The Girl That Had to Play Tennis." I mean, we already know she can play tennis, we're not going to be impressed if she beats all the other characters and wins the big tournament. It's just a movie meant to showcase the person's talents. If I didn't want to hear the bitch sing in the first place, why the hell would I want to see a movie in which said bitch's singing is a major plot point?
Also, what's with parties in TV shows? You know what I'm talking about. They always have these scenes where the main characters are at a party, usually hosted by one of the friends or some jerk they don't know. That's all good and well, but what about the extras? There's always a few principle characters and upwards of 20 or 30 other people who are just sitting around, making out on the stairs, dancing in place, or greeting people. Who has this many random people at their party? Don't you invite people that you know? And everyone's got these big two-floor houses except you never see the upstairs, you just see people sitting on the stairs drinking beer out of red plastic cups. You never just see a party with eight or nine good friends, where they sit around on a couch and just... pass time. Or whatever! Okay, I admit I don't really know what I'm talking about; I don't go to a lot of parties. But it just seems... false. Okay, until the next time,
Nicky Young
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.
AIM: Jake Aimer (3) comments
Thursday, October 28, 2004
Shut up, I know it's been a while.
Apparently, when a person starts to have a life, he spends a lot less time on his blog.
Anyway, maybe I can get back into this, because it's probably good for me or something.
Just felt like mentioning that I'm watching Bedazzled on FOX now—that's the movie where Elizabeth Hurley is the devil and she sells Brendan Frazer seven wishes for his soul—and there's this one scene where the devil takes him to her night club, which I guess is hell or something. Anyway, I was just totally blown away by how much Satan's night club looked like the rave scene from The Matrix: Reloaded. It's eerie. Really really eerie. There's like, the cavern background and a hoard of people, and a balcony thing where she can go to address the people. I thought she was going to talk about how "the sentinels are coming for them, but tonight we dance!" Dance and party. Dance 'til your feet bleed goo.
Okay, maybe I'll be back with some kind of Halloween update later. Or will I? Whatev.
Nicky
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.
AIM: Jake Aimer (0) comments
Anyway, maybe I can get back into this, because it's probably good for me or something.
Just felt like mentioning that I'm watching Bedazzled on FOX now—that's the movie where Elizabeth Hurley is the devil and she sells Brendan Frazer seven wishes for his soul—and there's this one scene where the devil takes him to her night club, which I guess is hell or something. Anyway, I was just totally blown away by how much Satan's night club looked like the rave scene from The Matrix: Reloaded. It's eerie. Really really eerie. There's like, the cavern background and a hoard of people, and a balcony thing where she can go to address the people. I thought she was going to talk about how "the sentinels are coming for them, but tonight we dance!" Dance and party. Dance 'til your feet bleed goo.
Okay, maybe I'll be back with some kind of Halloween update later. Or will I? Whatev.
Nicky
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.
AIM: Jake Aimer (0) comments
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Round Three! (Addendum)
I just wanted to mention, before anyone gets in my grill, that I know John Kerry isn't for gay marriage either. But he believes in more rights for gay couples than George Bush and his approach seems to be more tolerant an even-handed about the issue.
(3) comments
Round Three!
This post is very short. I gots some work to do while I watch the third debate.
The first two debates were interesting and informative, but it seems like this one is just a bit repetitive. Is that... is that just me?
Anyway, it looks like George Bush is coming apart here. He is blinking, blinking, blinking like a... guy that blinks a lot. He seems to start every rebuttal with a disbelieving smirk, and makes his arguments like a man who is deeply offended by these heretical statements. There was one part when John Kerry was talking about "pay as you go", and in his rebuttal, George Bush seemed not to have the time to say the entire phrase. "I'll tell you what paygo is." What? What's that? "Paygo?" Is that a tomato sauce? Come on, take an extra second and say the whole phrase.
The thing that surprises me is that either of these candidates, even Mr. Bush here can remember all this shit? How do they remember how many times the other has voted for more or fewer taxes, or how many times one or the other has appeared at various meetings? I picture midnight cram sessions, where the candidates rapidly flip flash cards, cursing that they canNOT recall the other's voting record. Information being Googled, questions furiously asked on AskJeeves.com. Schoolhouse Rock videos watched, and re-watched until the tape has worn thin.
I don't really understand these arguments about the whole GAY MARRIAGE thing. What's the deal? Why is marriage between a man and a woman? And why is it sanctified? What is the institution of marriage which needs to be protected? As far as I can tell, no one's taken marriage seriously for at least 30 years. Why is Bush arguing in favor of tolerance, but making decisions based on his personal beliefs?
Okay, time to go.
Nicky
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.
AIM: Jake Aimer (0) comments
The first two debates were interesting and informative, but it seems like this one is just a bit repetitive. Is that... is that just me?
Anyway, it looks like George Bush is coming apart here. He is blinking, blinking, blinking like a... guy that blinks a lot. He seems to start every rebuttal with a disbelieving smirk, and makes his arguments like a man who is deeply offended by these heretical statements. There was one part when John Kerry was talking about "pay as you go", and in his rebuttal, George Bush seemed not to have the time to say the entire phrase. "I'll tell you what paygo is." What? What's that? "Paygo?" Is that a tomato sauce? Come on, take an extra second and say the whole phrase.
The thing that surprises me is that either of these candidates, even Mr. Bush here can remember all this shit? How do they remember how many times the other has voted for more or fewer taxes, or how many times one or the other has appeared at various meetings? I picture midnight cram sessions, where the candidates rapidly flip flash cards, cursing that they canNOT recall the other's voting record. Information being Googled, questions furiously asked on AskJeeves.com. Schoolhouse Rock videos watched, and re-watched until the tape has worn thin.
I don't really understand these arguments about the whole GAY MARRIAGE thing. What's the deal? Why is marriage between a man and a woman? And why is it sanctified? What is the institution of marriage which needs to be protected? As far as I can tell, no one's taken marriage seriously for at least 30 years. Why is Bush arguing in favor of tolerance, but making decisions based on his personal beliefs?
Okay, time to go.
Nicky
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.
AIM: Jake Aimer (0) comments
Sunday, October 10, 2004
Oh, the commercials you'll watch!
Coming on the heels, or possibly heel, of last Sundays Commercial Watch announcement, I have discovered another innovative commercial. Seems like all the innovators get their commercials in during Desperate Houswives.
Okay, this one's an ad for Target and Tylenol. This metal guitarist is rocking out, and he smashes his guitar on the floor to break it. But NO! it bounces up and hits him in the head. Then he smiles at the Target dog who is standing by a box of Tylenol.
Now, even though Target is one of my top 100 sworn enemies, I have to give them credit where it's due.
And then, there are the Hungry Man commercials. Sure, everyone likes to have two types of beef and a side of mashed potatoes once in a while, but it's hardly the kind of thing a person wants every day. I really don't see the strategy in belittling any food with a touch of class, or a quality beyond standard cookout food. I mean, this is an era of metrosexuals, when a man will gladly spend $70 on a haircut if he's sure he won't develop any split ends. Or are these ads more of a reactionary statement, saying, "Look, we know where it's at. Fuck you girly men. Now to ride our Harleys into the sunset!" I guess that makes sense.
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.
AIM: Jake Aimer (0) comments
Okay, this one's an ad for Target and Tylenol. This metal guitarist is rocking out, and he smashes his guitar on the floor to break it. But NO! it bounces up and hits him in the head. Then he smiles at the Target dog who is standing by a box of Tylenol.
Now, even though Target is one of my top 100 sworn enemies, I have to give them credit where it's due.
And then, there are the Hungry Man commercials. Sure, everyone likes to have two types of beef and a side of mashed potatoes once in a while, but it's hardly the kind of thing a person wants every day. I really don't see the strategy in belittling any food with a touch of class, or a quality beyond standard cookout food. I mean, this is an era of metrosexuals, when a man will gladly spend $70 on a haircut if he's sure he won't develop any split ends. Or are these ads more of a reactionary statement, saying, "Look, we know where it's at. Fuck you girly men. Now to ride our Harleys into the sunset!" I guess that makes sense.
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.
AIM: Jake Aimer (0) comments
Oh, the commercials you'll watch!
Coming on the heels, or possibly heel, of last Sundays Commercial Watch announcement, I have discovered another innovative commercial. Seems like all the innovators get their commercials in during Desperate Houswives.
Okay, this one's an ad for Target and Tylenol. This metal guitarist is rocking out, and he smashes his guitar on the floor to break it. But NO! it bounces up and hits him in the head. Then he smiles at the Target dog who is standing by a box of Tylenol.
Now, even though Target is one of my top 100 sworn enemies, I have to give them credit where it's due.
And then, there are the Hungry Man commercials. Sure, everyone likes to have two types of beef and a side of mashed potatoes once in a while, but it's hardly the kind of thing a person wants every day. I really don't see the strategy in belittling any food with a touch of class, or a quality beyond standard cookout food. I mean, this is an era of metrosexuals, when a man will gladly spend $70 on a haircut if he's sure he won't develop any split ends. Or are these ads more of a reactionary statement, saying, "Look, we know where it's at. Fuck you girly men. Now to ride our Harleys into the sunset!" I guess that makes sense.
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.
AIM: Jake Aimer (0) comments
Okay, this one's an ad for Target and Tylenol. This metal guitarist is rocking out, and he smashes his guitar on the floor to break it. But NO! it bounces up and hits him in the head. Then he smiles at the Target dog who is standing by a box of Tylenol.
Now, even though Target is one of my top 100 sworn enemies, I have to give them credit where it's due.
And then, there are the Hungry Man commercials. Sure, everyone likes to have two types of beef and a side of mashed potatoes once in a while, but it's hardly the kind of thing a person wants every day. I really don't see the strategy in belittling any food with a touch of class, or a quality beyond standard cookout food. I mean, this is an era of metrosexuals, when a man will gladly spend $70 on a haircut if he's sure he won't develop any split ends. Or are these ads more of a reactionary statement, saying, "Look, we know where it's at. Fuck you girly men. Now to ride our Harleys into the sunset!" I guess that makes sense.
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.
AIM: Jake Aimer (0) comments
Man is a Primal Beast
DISCLAIMER: THIS NEWS POST CONTAINS GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF UNEASE. IT IS NOT RECOMMENDED FOR YOUNG CHILDREN.
Don't do what I did.
So, here I am up at my country house in South "no-one-knows-where-the-fuck-it-is" Salem, Westchester. It's around 6:30 and getting dark out, and I decide I want to go outside and get a little exercise before the sun is completely gone. Great, exercise, a little jog!
What I didn't realize is how fucking hardwired is a man's impulse to flee darkness. When I stepped outside I realized that there was probably enough accumulated light to illuminate a small closet, which is to say, very little. I could still see, sure, but if I were attacked by an even moderately stealthy woodchuck I'd probably never have seen it coming. Which isn't too much of a problem, considering the general lack of woodchucks in the area, but you get the point.
Across from my house's driveway is a one car garage. It was illuminated by a foreboding, orange light, and its eight square windows stared at me like the eyes of a gigantic, hungry arachnid.
Ignoring this unpleasant image, I decided to go on a short jog to the end of the road and back, because our house is on a dead-end road and to jog to the end is a pretty short distance. I started jogging, straining slightly to see through the encroaching darkness, and feeling the wind chill me through my wool sweater. All around me were the sounds of crickets and cicadas.
You see, I had miscalculated here. Apparently, running makes me more afraid of being painfully devoured or axe-murdered. By the very virtue of the fact that I'm running, I begin to believe that I am in fact, being chased. Try it some time; it's awesome.
So I stopped running and began walking. Even though this made the trip much longer, it seemed better. As I walked along the road, house lights glowed eerily. I walked past one house that emitted a loud, humming noise, which I have been completely unable to account for. Further on was a shiny new SUV with its inside lights on. Its top-mounted carrier gleamed menacingly like an obsidian torpedo ready to launch. I quickened my pace.
I tried to reason with myself. There was no one in this neighborhood likely to kill me. There had been no reports of maulings recently. And I plainly had the odds in my favor, seeing as no one had ever been violently murdered in my area, and I decided I would not be the one to set that sort of precedent.
Finally, I reached the end of the road, my heart rate at an unreasonably accelerated pace. But I began to relax knowing I wouldn't see anything new on the way back. I walked calmly home, and began to regain my composure. Far off in the distance, I actually heard a dog howl. But it could do nothing, I had conquered my fears.
And then suddenly, a man burst from the bushes, charging at me with the very same tomahawk I had seen in the Natural History Museum. Apparently I had tread to heavily on the old Indian burial grounds, and the spirits were out for blood!
Well, that didn't really happen, but the story really needed a climax. Anyway, my point is that despite humanity's technology and conveniences, we are just as frightened, if not much more so, by the things that made our prehistoric ancestors cringe and cling to each other in their caves. So let that be a lesson to you: if the Natural History Museum tour guide has lost your attention, don't show it; you never know who he might be!
Nicky
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.
AIM: Jake Aimer (2) comments
Don't do what I did.
So, here I am up at my country house in South "no-one-knows-where-the-fuck-it-is" Salem, Westchester. It's around 6:30 and getting dark out, and I decide I want to go outside and get a little exercise before the sun is completely gone. Great, exercise, a little jog!
What I didn't realize is how fucking hardwired is a man's impulse to flee darkness. When I stepped outside I realized that there was probably enough accumulated light to illuminate a small closet, which is to say, very little. I could still see, sure, but if I were attacked by an even moderately stealthy woodchuck I'd probably never have seen it coming. Which isn't too much of a problem, considering the general lack of woodchucks in the area, but you get the point.
Across from my house's driveway is a one car garage. It was illuminated by a foreboding, orange light, and its eight square windows stared at me like the eyes of a gigantic, hungry arachnid.
Ignoring this unpleasant image, I decided to go on a short jog to the end of the road and back, because our house is on a dead-end road and to jog to the end is a pretty short distance. I started jogging, straining slightly to see through the encroaching darkness, and feeling the wind chill me through my wool sweater. All around me were the sounds of crickets and cicadas.
You see, I had miscalculated here. Apparently, running makes me more afraid of being painfully devoured or axe-murdered. By the very virtue of the fact that I'm running, I begin to believe that I am in fact, being chased. Try it some time; it's awesome.
So I stopped running and began walking. Even though this made the trip much longer, it seemed better. As I walked along the road, house lights glowed eerily. I walked past one house that emitted a loud, humming noise, which I have been completely unable to account for. Further on was a shiny new SUV with its inside lights on. Its top-mounted carrier gleamed menacingly like an obsidian torpedo ready to launch. I quickened my pace.
I tried to reason with myself. There was no one in this neighborhood likely to kill me. There had been no reports of maulings recently. And I plainly had the odds in my favor, seeing as no one had ever been violently murdered in my area, and I decided I would not be the one to set that sort of precedent.
Finally, I reached the end of the road, my heart rate at an unreasonably accelerated pace. But I began to relax knowing I wouldn't see anything new on the way back. I walked calmly home, and began to regain my composure. Far off in the distance, I actually heard a dog howl. But it could do nothing, I had conquered my fears.
And then suddenly, a man burst from the bushes, charging at me with the very same tomahawk I had seen in the Natural History Museum. Apparently I had tread to heavily on the old Indian burial grounds, and the spirits were out for blood!
Well, that didn't really happen, but the story really needed a climax. Anyway, my point is that despite humanity's technology and conveniences, we are just as frightened, if not much more so, by the things that made our prehistoric ancestors cringe and cling to each other in their caves. So let that be a lesson to you: if the Natural History Museum tour guide has lost your attention, don't show it; you never know who he might be!
Nicky
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.
AIM: Jake Aimer (2) comments
Monday, October 04, 2004
It's Here!
Finally, I'm posting my fall preview, which, like the Garfield review before it, will seem exponentially worse for every day you've eagerly anticipated it.
First order of business, I've been reading the "Sam and Fuzzy" web comic, and it's truly very competent, but it doesn't stir in me the kind of passion brought forth by the likes of Penny Arcade and Men in Hats. For more on Men in Hats and a host of other web comics, check out my recently updated links section. Especially recommended are... well, all of them. I only link to the best. Now, if only they'd link to me.
So, the new TV season is quickly coming upon us. What have we got to look forward to this year, and "give thanks for" (a term from olden English meaning "be super happy about")? Well, Smallville is finally back on TV with a new season, which I will also not watch. Nothing personal, Tom Welling. It's not you, it's me. Let's keep in touch.
What else? I assume "24" is coming back, because once FOX realizes they have produced one of those "popular shows" everyone keeps telling them about—the FOX dictionary that all employees are required to refer to actually replaces the word "popular" with "The Simpsons", so you can expect them to be confused—they latch onto it like a leech that's all covered with glue. FOX has decided that these "popular shows" are super.
We can once again expect higher stakes this year, including explosives, the threat of some sort of plague or epidemic, a nuclear device, perhaps a few zombies (or as they prefer, the "vitally challenged"), and most likely Kim Bauer being harassed by a mountain lion, bear, opossum, or other woodland animal. One might also expect Jack Bauer to be, high strung, frequently angry, shout frantically at a walkie-talkie, and tell people that he "WILL kill them."
A smattering of sitcoms are probably scheduled to grace our TV screens briefly, before we quickly change the channel. They shall be canceled for their poor quality. They shall be replaced with videos displaying some of the best examples of the unfortunate convergences between crotches and large objects. Except for the TV show Quintuplets. It will not be canceled, because there is no God, and if there is, he has a cruel sense of humor and enjoys watching me, personally, suffer. I can't believe that show is still on the air. The real, non-robotic Andy Richter must be rolling in his grave.
Meanwhile, NBC, realizing it no longer has popular shows, desperately scrambles to fill the gaps left by the twin departures of Friends and Frasier. The absence of those shows are like twin bullet holes in the body of NBC. And it will BLEED TO DEATH if it doesn't get help soon, damn it!
Nicky
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.
AIM: Jake Aimer (1) comments
First order of business, I've been reading the "Sam and Fuzzy" web comic, and it's truly very competent, but it doesn't stir in me the kind of passion brought forth by the likes of Penny Arcade and Men in Hats. For more on Men in Hats and a host of other web comics, check out my recently updated links section. Especially recommended are... well, all of them. I only link to the best. Now, if only they'd link to me.
So, the new TV season is quickly coming upon us. What have we got to look forward to this year, and "give thanks for" (a term from olden English meaning "be super happy about")? Well, Smallville is finally back on TV with a new season, which I will also not watch. Nothing personal, Tom Welling. It's not you, it's me. Let's keep in touch.
What else? I assume "24" is coming back, because once FOX realizes they have produced one of those "popular shows" everyone keeps telling them about—the FOX dictionary that all employees are required to refer to actually replaces the word "popular" with "The Simpsons", so you can expect them to be confused—they latch onto it like a leech that's all covered with glue. FOX has decided that these "popular shows" are super.
We can once again expect higher stakes this year, including explosives, the threat of some sort of plague or epidemic, a nuclear device, perhaps a few zombies (or as they prefer, the "vitally challenged"), and most likely Kim Bauer being harassed by a mountain lion, bear, opossum, or other woodland animal. One might also expect Jack Bauer to be, high strung, frequently angry, shout frantically at a walkie-talkie, and tell people that he "WILL kill them."
A smattering of sitcoms are probably scheduled to grace our TV screens briefly, before we quickly change the channel. They shall be canceled for their poor quality. They shall be replaced with videos displaying some of the best examples of the unfortunate convergences between crotches and large objects. Except for the TV show Quintuplets. It will not be canceled, because there is no God, and if there is, he has a cruel sense of humor and enjoys watching me, personally, suffer. I can't believe that show is still on the air. The real, non-robotic Andy Richter must be rolling in his grave.
Meanwhile, NBC, realizing it no longer has popular shows, desperately scrambles to fill the gaps left by the twin departures of Friends and Frasier. The absence of those shows are like twin bullet holes in the body of NBC. And it will BLEED TO DEATH if it doesn't get help soon, damn it!
Nicky
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.
AIM: Jake Aimer (1) comments
Sunday, October 03, 2004
I have seen the face of God
And it is GOOD!
It all started with the TV show, Desperate Housewives. Beh, don't really care for the show so far, but it doesn't matter. Suddenly there's a commercial, unlike any I have ever seen. Let me set the scene:
A large fish stands upright near a swing-set.
A young girl stands transfixed five feet away.
Beyond that, is her mother and a another child.
The fish moves its mouth slowly.
The girl approaches the fish, but her mother swoops in and takes her away.
The ad asks, "Uncomfortable around fish?" And it is an ad for fish sticks.
One who has never seen this commercial can only imagine its absolute sanctity. Look out Jesus, you've got some competition.
Okay, I give you TV preview tomorrow, by which time it will have lost all relevance. Whoo!
Nicky
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.
AIM: Jake Aimer (0) comments
It all started with the TV show, Desperate Housewives. Beh, don't really care for the show so far, but it doesn't matter. Suddenly there's a commercial, unlike any I have ever seen. Let me set the scene:
A large fish stands upright near a swing-set.
A young girl stands transfixed five feet away.
Beyond that, is her mother and a another child.
The fish moves its mouth slowly.
The girl approaches the fish, but her mother swoops in and takes her away.
The ad asks, "Uncomfortable around fish?" And it is an ad for fish sticks.
One who has never seen this commercial can only imagine its absolute sanctity. Look out Jesus, you've got some competition.
Okay, I give you TV preview tomorrow, by which time it will have lost all relevance. Whoo!
Nicky
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.
AIM: Jake Aimer (0) comments
Friday, October 01, 2004
Watch my vain attempt to resist "Love, Actually."
It's just so CUTE, you know what I mean. So generic. You have the "Hugh Grant dancing to 80s music only he can hear" and the "Portuguese housekeeper diving into the pond to save the script of the author she works for" scene. It's all so terribly done before.
And yet... such is the manner of social engineering. This film is a better work of manipulation than other examples of its kind, and succeeds as such. Still, I'm not going to condone its existence.
Okay, Fall preview coming in a couple days. I'm just trying to delay its release a little to space out the posts a little more evenly.
Nicky
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.
AIM: Jake Aimer (0) comments
And yet... such is the manner of social engineering. This film is a better work of manipulation than other examples of its kind, and succeeds as such. Still, I'm not going to condone its existence.
Okay, Fall preview coming in a couple days. I'm just trying to delay its release a little to space out the posts a little more evenly.
Nicky
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.
AIM: Jake Aimer (0) comments
